Only Fools Play Pretend
by ArwendeImladris
Summary: Only fools play pretend when it comes to the heart - and I'm the biggest fool of all." Bones didn't realize just what he wanted - just what he felt - until Jim was gone. Now he has to deal with the consequences of his denial. But, maybe...
1. Only Fools Play Pretend

Title: Only Fools Play Pretend  
Fandom: Star Trek XI  
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, and I do not make any money from these fictions.  
Rating: M  
Pairing: Bones/Jim  
Summary: "It's okay that you don't love me, Bones…Just let me pretend." Only fools play pretend…And I'm the biggest fool of all…

*****

"It's okay that you don't love me, Bones. It's okay," Jim whispers softly in my ear, arms going around my neck, and goddamn it, I shouldn't be doing this – I shouldn't, I'm taking advantage of Jim, and Jim's had enough pain in his life…

"Just let me pretend a bit, Bones. Just let me pretend," and now there's a hint of pleading in Jim's voice, and I never could say "no" to the kid…to Jim – to my captain. This is so fucked up – so fucked up. But it's been a while, and Jim is the hottest thing on two legs – not even I can deny that, especially not when Jim is plastered along my front and that amazing mouth is licking and sucking and nipping at that really sensitive spot right below my ear.

And I might not be in love with Jim – but I care about him. I don't know what I would do without him. Jim is my best friend, my confidante, the one who listens when I've had a fucked up day and just need a drink and an ear for my rants. And Jim never takes offense to my grump – just grins, or smiles, and pats me on the back. Jim's the reason I'm C.M.O. of Starfleet's flagship, instead of six feet in the ground – from depression, from alcohol poisoning, from my own fucked up self.

It's for Jim – Jim wants to pretend, so I will let him pretend. I'll kiss him back, and hold him tight, and not think about the fact that my cock might be screwing up the best thing that has ever happened to me. Because maybe if I had the strength to say "no"…but I don't and never will, and there's no use in thinking about what could be.

So I let Jim pretend…

*****

Why is Jim letting that fucker touch him? Why doesn't he push him away?! Jim…fuck that…fuck him. I don't need him anyway. All I need is this bottle of bourbon…well, this bottle, and maybe another one. And then maybe I can get my imagination to stop torturing me with thoughts of that alien's slimy purple hands all over Jim's beautiful golden skin…

"Fuck, I'm getting too fucking old for this…"

"Doctor, I estimate that your use of inappropriate language increases exponentially with your intake of alcoholic substances. As this is a diplomatic function…" Just shut the fuck up, Spock! Just shut the fuck up! You don't know anything, you green-blooded, pointy-eared, hobgoblin computer!

And shit…I just said that out loud. Great…just fucking great.

Well…at least Jim wasn't paying attention to that purple fucker anymore…

*****

"Bones…" Jim moaned. That was such a beautiful sound…I love the sounds of Jim's pleasure. His little hitches of breath, his moans, but my favorite…

Yep, there's his little panting whine. It always goes straight to my cock…

*****

"Doctor, perhaps you should rest…" Fucking Chapel…I'm the CMO, not her! She may be head nurse, but that doesn't give her the fucking right to try to order me out of my own fucking sickbay! Especially not when Jim's not an hour past surgery that saved his fucking fool ass. Jim's not going on any more away missions…not if I have anything to say about it!

"Doctor…you will be no use to the captain if…" Oh, and Chapel is still talking…when will this woman ever shut up?

"I know you love him, sir, but…"

"Shut your mouth!" And yes, my glare can even make Chapel cower. Nice to know I still have it…Now about Starfleet Code 3456 Subsection 3…maybe if I comm Pike with the _proper_ interpretation of this goddamn code he'll be able to order Jim to stay on the ship a little more.

I still can't get the red of his blood off my hands…I know that it's not really there anymore – not physically, anyway, the decontamination unit took care of that…but I can feel his lifeblood squishing under my nails, covering the rest of my hands with his warm, wet…

Well, it's best not to goddamn think of that. A man can drive himself crazy, that way…

*****

"Bones…I don't really feel like it now…" He just shrugged me off! Unbelievable, James goddamn "T for Tomcat" fucking Kirk just shrugged me off…pushed my lips from his neck and scrunched his shoulders up, and told me he wasn't in the mood!

"Jim…" And my voice is not cajoling…But it's been a while…not since I went to Pike with my idea to keep Jim on the bridge more often…Jim did not appreciate my interference, and he must have Pike by the short and curlies, because the goddamn admiral sided with my fool of a captain…

"I said no, Bones." And, well, that's that...if automatically sliding doors could slam, they just did.

Maybe Jim isn't talking out of his ass when he says his "Silver Lady" will do whatever he wants her to, as long as he treats her right…

Or maybe I need to get my head examined, because I'm starting to sound like my fool of a lover…who refuses to have sex with me!

*****

"Have you spoken with the captain, Dr. McCoy?" Oh…and there's Spock…always there when you don't want him.

"He's a bit testy right now, Spock." So go away…because I sure as hell don't want to talk to you. Always sticking your nose where it don't belong – Jim was _my_ friend first. You can't have him.

"That is understandable, considering the circumstances." And goddamn it, what does the hobgoblin know that I don't. I really don't want to talk to him now…or ever…

The things I fucking do for that kid…

"Circumstances?"

"Of course, Doctor McCoy, seeing as it is the twenty-sixth anniversary of Nero's arrival in this time stream, the destruction of the _U.S.S. Kelvin_, and the captain's birth."

Fuck.

Fucking…

I'm a fucking bastard. A fucking selfish, self-absorbed, pushy bastard.

This is why I don't fucking deserve Jim…not his friendship, and most certainly not his love. Maybe I _should_ just let Spock have him…Spock would probably love him the way I can't, instead of just being a bad fucking friend. With benefits.

So why does the idea of Spock putting those telepathic hands anywhere Jim make me want to knock him one good?

It's not like I deserve Jim. He came to me for a hug, and I tried to make it into sex…How could I forget his fucking birthday? I don't care how fucking busy this starship has been the past couple…well, months…

"Doctor McCoy? Doctor McCoy?" Goddamn it, was Spock talking all this time?

Why do people just keep talking to me when I'm obviously not listening? Can't they see the fucking scowl?

*****

"Jim…"

Well, this is just my fucking luck, isn't it? He doesn't want to have sex with me, but Sulu…

Well, the flyboy's another story, I guess…So much for Jim fucking loving me. I should have known better than to think…

*****

"Bones…it was just pretend. I loved you, and I needed to feel loved in return. But I need something real now. And Hikaru…that was a mistake. He showed me just how fucked up pretending can be. Because I'm not Chekov, and he's not…well…Just - thanks for pretending, at least for a little while."

Pretending…right…that's what I was doing.

I…forgot.

*****

"Leonard…do you want to talk about it?"

No, Nyota – I do not want to fucking _talk_ about it. Not all of us are fucking _communications_ officers. Some people just like to brood in peace…

"All right, if you're just going to stand there scowling, trying to ignore me, I'm going to say what I was going to say anyway."

Of course you are. Just my fucking luck.

"Love…true love, healthy love – it's about giving yourself whole-heartedly to a person, and trusting that they won't make you give up what makes you yourself. You guys have the giving yourself whole-heartedly down pat, and unless you ask the captain to stop being the captain, or he asks you to stop being a doctor, I don't think you'll have a problem with the second part. But…he told me…he told me that it was all just pretend, on your part. But, Leonard – I've seen the way you look at him. The only one who thinks this is pretend is him – and if you somehow managed to blind yourself into thinking it too, then you are a fool – and maybe you _don't _deserve him."

Brilliant pep talk, Nyota. Just what I needed. Oh, and there – perfect – now the "Silver Lady" is slamming sliding doors for people on _behalf_ of the captain as well.

*****

Nyota was right – I'm a fool. I'm a fucking foolish bastard, and if there's a higher being out there somewhere, he'll rip this heart right from my chest and steal the blood from my veins, and give it all to Jim.

"Bones..?" No, Jim…don't say my name like that…not now. Jesus fucking Christ…don't look at me like that, kid. Don't…

"'m sorry, Bones. 'm sorry. I…I didn't mean…" Shh…Shh…Jim. Please, just conserve your strength.

Please.

"'m sorry you have to w-watch me die…I always thought…I always thought I'd be a-alone…" Jim…Jim, no. Don't…I can't be crying right now – I have to see. I have to see so I can apply pressure to the wound…so close to your femoral artery. I think…no, I'm not going to lie to myself, not anymore – I know you nicked it. But even a nick…you have minutes, Jim. Minutes.

Twenty at the fucking most – if Spock doesn't manage to pull a miracle from alongside that stick up his ass in the next fifteen minutes, not even the advanced medical technology on the _Enterprise_ will save you…

"Don't cry, Bones. You're…you're supposed to be grumpy. I know everything is all right when you're grumpy…"

Jesus, kid…Jesus…just – stop looking at me like that. You're tearing my fucking heart out. Actually…go ahead and rip it out of my chest. I want you to have it…because then I won't be around to watch the life bleed out of your eyes, knowing that it was my foolishness that caused it…

"Bones…Bones…everything is getting hazy…and darker…"

"No, Jim…Jim, look at me. Jim…"

"'m lookin', 'ones, 'm lookin'…" No, stop slurring. You're not drunk, you bastard. You just…you just have to hold on, a little bit longer.

"Jim, Jim…I love you, Jim. I love you. So much. You hear me? I love you! You hear me, you asshole? I love you, with everything left of this shriveled up thing I call a heart. So you hold on. I love you. Okay? I love you." I think…I think I've just said that three word phrase more in the last couple seconds than I have in my entire life.

"No…no you don't, 'ones. But thanks for sayin' it. Thanks for playin' pretend…one last time. 'karu wasn't good at it…wasn't grumpy 'nough to pretend to be you…" No…Jim…open your eyes – give me one last shit-eating grin. Please, Jim…Please. I love you…I said it. Why didn't you believe me?

Jim…

I promise I'll be with you soon…

*****

Author's Note: Well…I wanted to try a stream-of-consciousness type thing, but dialogue kept interfering. Let me know what you guys think…


	2. Chasing Heaven

**Warning****: Potential triggering. Self-violence – please don't read if this disturbs you.**

I can't…how…how could this have happened? This…it was supposed to be a goddamn routine mission! But the alien jumped at me from out of nowhere, and Jim…

Jim…god, Jim pushed me out of the way, took it on – knocked it unconscious.

But not before that goddamn knife slid through his femoral artery. He should have just let me die – because I'm going to end up dead anyway, without him. Maybe…maybe I should just reduce the wait.

There's…there's the knife that did it. It's covered in his blood, dripping with it. It would be poetic…wouldn't it? If I died by the same weapon that took him from me? It would be…it would only be right, to physically die by the same weapon that killed my heart.

He didn't believe me, though. I told him…I told him I loved him, finally, and he didn't believe me. But I can't blame Jim – I had so many chances, so many opportunities to tell him before. To pull him into my arms, and tell him that I didn't want to pretend, because I really loved him. Madly and truly and deeply and all that romantic shit that he probably would have teased me for, but inside would have loved. I would have had time to reassure him that I was telling the truth, get passed all that insecurity.

It's…it's dripping with his blood. Red and starting to dry and…it should be in his body, liquid and warm and pumping through his heart and…

But it's not. His blood is all over the ground, sinking into the dirt and becoming a part of this god-forsaken planet. And soon my blood will join it.

I grab his hand – I can't help it, I need to touch him, even though he's cold. So cold…I look at his thigh, where the knife cut his pants to slide into his flesh. It would be easier to slit my wrists, but I don't want easy – I want to go exactly the same way he did. And if I have to suffer for a while before I go – well, it's no more than I deserve.

But Jim…Jim didn't deserve it. He should have let that alien kill me…he should have…

But he didn't. And if there's any sort of afterlife, and I'm lucky enough to see him again there, I'll apologize for making his sacrifice be made in vain. But he can't…he can't expect me to keep living like this, not when I feel as if fate's cold hand is reaching into my chest to grab my heart, and just…squeezing. Digging her nails in real good – because this is my fault. This is all my fault. And he died without believing that I loved him. He _died_…Jim…

So just a nick – just like Jim. I'll bleed out slowly, just like he did. Poetic justice…

Pain…but no more than I deserve. And no physical pain could match the hole in my chest.

Jim…

******

Pain…if I'm dead? Why I am in so much pain? Maybe I'm in hell – the powers that be must have decided that I deserved to suffer more for all the pain I caused Jim with my foolishness and denial. They're right – I deserve to suffer for eternity for putting that lost look into his beautiful blue eyes. But…just to see him…just once more.

"Ah…Doctor McCoy, you're awake!"

Chapel…? No!

I failed…I couldn't even…

"Doctor McCoy, I'm sure you're in a lot of pain right now." You have no idea, Chapel, no fucking idea! "You lost a lot of blood, but Mr. Scott managed to beam you up in time. The wound wasn't that deep, thankfully, so it wasn't difficult to heal it."

Go away…just – go away.

"Doctor McCoy is awake then, Nurse Chapel?" And just what I need…the green-blooded hobgoblin.

"Yes, Captain."

No…no – don't you call him that! Don't you…don't you fucking call him that!

"Call down, doctor. You need to calm down. Your blood levels still aren't normal, and you put a lot of strain on your heart!"

Sharp stinging in my neck…everything's getting dark.

If I'm lucky I'll never open my eyes again…

*****

"Computer, record…This is Chief Medical Officer Leonard Horatio McCoy. I am officially resigning my post aboard the _U.S.S. Enterprise_…I have been out of sickbay for two hours, and Spock so _graciously_ allowed me to return to my quarters – after removing every and any item that I could potential harm myself with…

Jim…Jim is dead. They won't let me see his body, but Spock promised that it was recovered from that goddamn planet. We are returning to Earth, where the f-funeral services will be h-held. I…that w-will be my last stop. They won't be able to stop me anymore, not once we're on Earth. They can't – they can't expect me to go to his funeral – to watch all those other people mourn a man they barely knew. His mother…his mother will be there. He doesn't…didn't. He didn't even like her. She was a shitty mom. And maybe – maybe his fucking stepdad will show up too. The bastard…

None of them – not a one of them care about him the way I do. I know if it was up to Jim – if it was up to Jim we would be having a party in his honor, dedicating our drinks and sex and fun to him. It would be the crew, and Admiral Pike, and Jake the bartender from that little pub down the street from the Academy. I c-can't…I can't believe he's g-gone. Just…I can't believe he goddamn died on me. And I was just…useless. Helpless. I c-can't…I can't even breathe…

I don't want to breathe. I just want to curl up in a ball and die. Computer, end recording."

I want to drink myself into a stupor – but the fucking green-blooded menace confiscated all of my liquor, as well. And I know…I know that they are watching me. No way they didn't install cameras to make sure I'm not trying to commit suicide.

But I'm a doctor, goddamn it – and I couldn't stop the death of the person who means…meant…_means_ the most to me in this universe. But they can't stop me from joining him – I'll find a way.


	3. Warmth

"Mmm…that was amazing, Bones." And isn't it just like Jim to stroke my ego – along with everything else? He is warm and wet with sweat, resting his pretty blonde head on my chest. I know he will fall asleep soon – his swollen lips are relaxed, and he's breathing through his mouth now. Any second now…

Yep, there it is. That endearing little hitch-snore he gets when he's lightly snoozing – as soon as he starts dreaming it will fade away, but I love watching him like this, barely asleep. So trusting, cuddled up on my chest. I can watch him like this for hours – as his breathing further evens out, and his eyes start switching madly beneath his lids once he slips into REM, his too-pretty eyelashes creating little shadows over his cheeks.

I can't help but run my hands all over him – drag my fingers through his hair, feel every vertebrate on his back, lightly rest my hand on that pert bottom. My seed must be sliding out of his hole – coating his inner thighs and dripping down to tickle his balls. It will cool soon – and that won't be comfortable for him, not at all. I should slide from the bed - get a warm, wet cloth to wipe him down.

I should…but I'm so comfortable, and Jim is so warm, his breath tickling my chest. I don't want to wake him.

But then I think of how uncomfortable he'll be in the morning, sticky and crusty…He'll be in a better mood for morning sex if I clean him up now.

But when I try to slide from underneath him, he moans a little protest, arms going around my waist in an attempt to keep me where I am, and a soft "Bones" slipping from his lips. It makes my own lips twitch in what must be a silly smile - knowing that even in his dreams, I'm the one he's with.

Goddamn it, Jim – I'm a doctor, not a sap.

I wait a few minutes – no real rush, after all. It just gives me more time to _feel_ Jim – his heart, his breathing, his warmth. Gives me more time to smell his hair and his skin, musty with the smell of our sex and sweat. God…he's so gorgeous like this – relaxed and so open.

But I really should clean him up…

When I try to get up this time, his thighs part, straddling my lower stomach as he protests my departure – giving a little wiggle in response to my movement. It is times like these that I want to compare him to a puppy – my little sleepy golden Labrador, affectionate and sweet and loyal and earnest and…

And I know that I need to get my head checked out when I compare my lover's characteristics to that of a puppy.

"Bones…" And I love the way he says that silly nickname he gave me – the one that only he uses. He gets upset when anyone else tries to call me that – says it's _his_ name for me, and no one else can have it.

Possessive bastard – and god, I'm not even fooling anyone with that, am I? Least of all myself. I love it when he's possessive – when he gets pouty and pissy and shows everyone just who I belong to.

It gives me an excuse to get possessive in turn – which I need, considering the number of Jim's fucking admirers…

"Bones…" Oh, and there's my name again. Jim's waking up, his eyelashes fluttering a bit. God, so precious…

"Wher'ya'goin?"

Was I supposed to understand that, Jim? He frowns a little as the vibrations from my laugh shake him, and he gives a little huff against my neck.

"Meanie…"

Oh, at least we're at the first grade level now…

"I just wanted to grab a cloth to clean you up a bit. Don't want to be all crusty in the morning, do you darlin'?"

And he shivers at that – just like I knew he would. Jim can't resist the power of my "darlin'" – I don't use it too often, because then it might lose its affect, but slipping into a thicker accent always gets Jim going.

"Mmm…in a little bit, Bones. I just want to pretend for a while. Let's just pretend…"

And my eyes snap wide open at that – when had they closed? And why…why is my heart beating so fast?

No…no, my heart is not beating that fast. It's Jim…it's Jim's heart, slowing down. But…but I use him as my point of reference. How do I…how do I relate to a world without him in it?

Warm sticky wetness coating my stomach…I don't want to look down…I can't…I can't…I can't!

Jim's blood, dripping from a wound in his thigh. His heart is slowing, slowing, slowing…

Jim? Jim? Can you hear me, baby? Can you hear me? Darlin'? Stay with me, just a bit longer.

"Pretend, Bones. 's all fine, 'slong as you pretend…"

I don't want to pretend.

I don't.

Pretending is what caused all this to begin with – it's what hurt Jim so much, for so long, that he couldn't even believe that I loved him when I told him. He thought…he thought I was _humoring_ him, telling him that I loved him.

_Humoring_ him…It's a wonder Spock and Nyota and Chapel don't constantly look at me with derision, knowing what I've done. It's a wonder they don't kill me themselves. But I suppose they realize that is the easy way out for me – they want me to continue living so I continue suffering.

Except…except for _pretend_. These dream-fantasies of Jim…things that happened, and didn't happen, and could have happened, and almost happened…And I can touch him, and feel him, and smell him, and see him, and _talk_ to him…

And then I wake up. And I know that I will never have a nightmare again – not while I'm asleep, anyway.

The real nightmare is waking up.


End file.
